


lose track of your flesh and your bones

by toomoon (jjjat3am)



Category: GOT7, Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Canon Compliant, M/M, Time Loop, background Markjin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-27 03:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20753327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/pseuds/toomoon
Summary: After an intense spot of research, Jackson concluded that the only solution to his problem was to have the absolute perfect day.He came close to it once, when he’d decided to totally forgo his diet and indulge in every food he wasn’t allowed to eat. He went to sleep that night, bloated and satisfied, crumbs all over his bed, only to wake up back on the couch.or,Jackson gets stuck in a time loop. It takes him a while to figure out his heart's desire.





	lose track of your flesh and your bones

**Author's Note:**

> Biggest thanks to Idella and Chrisi, without whom this fic wouldn't have been nearly as well-written. And all my love to Mina, without whom it wouldn't have been written at all.
> 
> Also thanks to the mods, for organizing this fest and being hella kind and wonderful. 
> 
> Title is from Erica Freas' Spider Song.

  


*

  


Jackson opened his eyes, blinking blearily at the air above him. He’d forgotten to take out his contacts last night and now his eyes felt itchy and would probably be red for the rest of the day. 

There was a splotch of red on the cracked whiteness of his ceiling and he squinted at it, cursing under his breath. It was either the gross berry vodka someone brought over last night, or red pepper paste, and he was at a loss as to how either could have made their way so high up. At least he knew that his usual cleaning service wouldn't even blink at it - they were usually hired to clean crime scenes.

After a few false starts, Jackson managed to roll onto his side, instinctively waiting for a wave of nausea and a pounding headache. They didn’t really come, at least not as much as he’d been bracing for, a testament to how good he’d been at holding himself back the previous evening. Not good enough to actually get to his own bed at the end of the night though.

It was right about then that he realized that the surface he was lying on wasn’t, in fact, an extremely pointy section of his floor, but Bambam’s stomach, a sharp hipbone digging into the tender skin of Jackson’s cheek. He stayed put for a moment, listening to the inner workings of Bambam’s digestive track before he was forced to sit up so that the bone wouldn’t slice his face open.

“Eat more,” he said to Bambam’s sleeping face, wincing at how gravelly his own voice sounded. “You’re hiding a weapon down there.”

“It’s not like I let just anyone sleep on me, boy,” Bambam said, opening one eye to regard Jackson lazily. Jackson flicked his ear for the disrespect and Bambam curled into himself with a whine, burying his face into the back of Jackson’s couch. Jackson’s previously cream-colored couch that was now covered with strange red and brown splotches. With a sigh, he decided to leave off worrying about it. It’s not like he couldn’t afford to buy a new couch if he needed to.

Jackson wandered through his living room, occasionally side-stepping bodies, game controllers and empty bottles. He found Yugyeom curled up near the coffee table, face planted into someone’s ample bosom. He was tempted to stick around, maybe with his phone camera, just to document how red Yugyeom’s face would be once he woke up and realized his predicament.

The kitchen was blissfully empty of other people, except for a guy sleeping sprawled across Jackson’s kitchen island. Jackson shooed him away, and he mostly went willingly, thanking him for the party as he stumbled out the door. He must have been one of Youngjae’s friends - they were always very polite.

His loose shirt caught on a plastic cup precariously close to the edge of the counter and the whole thing upended, spilling gross sticky juice all over his tiles. He frowned at it.

Clearing away half-empty bottles gave him enough room to fill a glass of water from the tap, which he gulped down too fast, almost choking on it. And then he busied himself with the only thing that could possibly make him feel better - coffee.

Jackson caught sight of himself in the reflective surface of the coffee maker and grimaced. He looked terrible. His eyes were red with dark smudges under them, and there was dark stubble shading his jawline. His hair was a mess that made him long for a snapback, which was another thing he’d lost sometime during the night. He checked his breath and concluded it smelled like a dead rat. A mess all around. Luckily no one really important was going to see him for the next couple of hours.

“Good morning,” someone said from the doorway, causing Jackson to whip around so quickly that he hissed at the sudden pain in his neck. 

Jooheon stood in his kitchen, exhibiting seemingly no symptoms of a sleepless night, even though he and Jackson were definitely at the same party. Jackson should know - he’d invited him. And yet here Jooheon was, looking bright-eyed and clear-skinned. His white hoodie was still totally pristine and his smile as sweet as cotton candy. Even his teeth seemed to sparkle in the morning sunshine. He looked radiant. 

“Oh, hey,” Jackson said, wincing at the gravel in his voice. He chanced another look at his reflection in the coffee machine and resisted the urge to hide among his cleaning supplies.

“Any chance I could get in on that?” Jooheon said, nodding at the coffee. Jackson caught himself nodding dumbly while staring at him, and wasn’t that just horrifically embarrassing.

“Of course, man,” Jackson said, and then, even if he knew he looked and felt like shit, he added, “but only for you.”

It made Jooheon smile at least. He crossed the kitchen to settle in a barstool at the counter. Jackson busied himself with selecting the mugs so he wouldn’t be tempted to look at him some more. 

“That was some party last night,” Jooheon said, somehow managing to lounge in the chair, which Jackson knew for a fact was frankly uncomfortable and mostly meant just for show.

“No party like a Jackson party, baby,” Jackson said, then flushed. The ‘baby’ just sort of slipped out, and if it were anyone else, he wouldn’t even give it a second glance. At least Jooheon didn’t seem bothered. “I didn’t really see you around last night.”

“Ah, I was playing video games with Minhyukie hyung and Yugyeom,” Jooheon said. “There were a lot of people around.”

Jackson grimaced. “Yeah, you know how it gets. A friend of a friend of a friend and suddenly it’s a full house,” he said. He poured the coffee into the mugs and added a little bit of milk. He slid the sugar across the counter toward Jooheon. Jooheon’s sugar intake varied from coffee to coffee, but he always took just a splash of milk. Jackson reached out with the coffee mug, intending to hand it over.

“I was hoping I’d see you,” Jackson said, just as their fingers touched on the warm porcelain. He hurriedly took his hands away after making sure Jooheon had a good grip. He wrapped his fingers around his own mug quickly, feeling them tingle.

Jooheon’s smile grew shy and he ducked his head to hide it behind the coffee mug. Feeling shy himself, Jackson avoided looking at him. They sipped on the coffee in silence, in the echoing quiet before the rest of the party guests started waking up.

“So did you beat Yugyeom’s ass at video games?” Jackson said before the silence grew too pregnant. Jooheon’s smile brightened into something cocky and he leaned forward across the counter, prompting Jackson to do the same.

“He’s, like, so bad at Mario Kart,” Jooheon said in a conspiratorial whisper and Jackson couldn’t quite disguise the delighted cackle he let out. “Literally, so bad, I think he threw the controller at the wall at some point and stomped away even though the game was still going and it was the best score he'd gotten all night.”

Jackson doubled over, struggling to control his laughter so it wouldn’t echo too loud. “He’s such a sore loser too,” he wheezed and that set Jooheon off too.

There was an awkward quiet in the wake of their laughter and Jackson busied himself with collecting empty bottles so he wouldn’t have to look at Jooheon. 

"Let me help you clean up,” Jooheon said, jumping to his feet and starting to stack the plastic cups that were littering the surface and Jackson had to close his eyes for a moment.

“You don’t have to-” Jackson started but Jooheon cut him off with a firm shake of his head and asked where he kept the trash bags. As he was ducking under the counter, a voice in Jackson’s head that sounded suspiciously like his mother was commending Jooheon on his manners. He shut that train of thought down very quickly. The last thing he needed to be thinking about was introducing Jooheon to his mother.

The kitchen was filled with the sound of clinking bottles and the rustle of plastic bags. Jackson tried his best to figure out a safe topic of conversation, only to have his usually irrepressible variety sense fail him entirely. Instead, he found himself preoccupied by the way their elbows clashed occasionally as they worked, their fingers brushing against each other. Jooheon looked at peace with the quiet, a small soft smile on his face.

He wondered if his mouth was as soft as it looked.

Someone cleared their throat nearby and Jackson forcefully tore his eyes away from Jooheon’s jawline. Wonho was leaning on the kitchen doorway casually, smirking at them.

“Is this where you two are hiding out?” Wonho asked. “I thought you’d be...somewhere else.”

He seemed to wiggle his eyebrows in Jooheon’s direction but it ended up looking more like he had a strange muscle spasm. Jooheon rolled his eyes, but Jackson noticed his ears getting redder.

“You look bigger every time I see you, hyung,” Jackson said instead of a greeting. Jooheon’s eyes flickered to him and he gave him a thankful smile, which meant it was good that he had intervened. 

“I’m on a diet,” Wonho said modestly, flexing a massive bicep for good measure.

“I’m on a diet too,” Jackson said, “but I never end up looking like you.”

Wonho looked pleased, but before he could open his mouth, Jooheon cut him off.

“Please don’t get hyung started on his training tips, we’ll be here all morning,” Jooheon said, rolling his eyes. He then sent a smile Jackson’s way. It had his knees feeling a little weak. It might be a sign that it was time for leg day. “Besides, you’re plenty muscular already, you don’t have to do anything differently.”

Jackson could feel a smile growing on his face seemingly without his consent. It was too wide to not be creepy and the warm feeling in his body had nothing to do with the morning sunshine coming through the kitchen blinds.

“Thanks,” he finally managed to say. “You have a hot body too.”

Jooheon’s ears totally went tomato red. He mumbled something under his breath that Jackson couldn't decipher. Behind them, Wonho snorted with laughter. Jackson caught him glancing between him and Jooheon like he was watching a particularly riveting tennis match.

It was then that Minhyuk crashed into the room in a twist of flailing limbs and the tinkling of bottles. He'd tripped over one while coming into the room.

"Fucking shit, that was dangerous," Minhyuk swore, then straightened up to look at every one. Wonho was laughing at him, seemingly unconcerned, though Jackson saw him reach out to cup Minhyuk's elbow to steady him. "So this is where you've been hiding."

Jackson was really starting to resent the accusation because he definitely wasn't hiding - the door to the kitchen was wide open and the whole thing brightly lit.

"Yes, this is our secret lair," Jackson said instead of rolling his eyes, because Minhyuk was his hyung and more importantly, he was Jooheon's hyung, and Jackson wanted to make a good impression. "Listen, do you guys want breakfast? I can make something."

He definitely had some frozen seaweed soup he could defrost and there was still some instant rice in the cupboard he could heat up, and maybe meat, though he couldn't remember if there was anything that wasn't chicken breast for his protein shakes.

Minhyuk and Wonho exchanged a glance between them. "Actually," Minhyuk said and he looked almost apologetic, "we should probably get going."

Jooheon's mug clattered as it hit the countertop too suddenly and he muttered an apology under his breath.

"Oh," Jackson said, feeling something deflate in his chest, "you probably have schedule, right? Sorry to keep you."

"Well, maybe Jooheon-" Wonho started but got cut off by Jooheon standing up.

"Maybe next time," Jooheon said, looking at Jackson. He seemed hopeful and Jackson offered him a smile, though it felt hard to breathe around the crushing disappointment in his chest.

"Next time, I'll hold you to it," Jackson said, stepping from behind the counter without a clear goal in mind. Jooheon seemed to know though because he crossed the distance to pull him into a hug.

It was barely anything, the quintessential bro hug, but Jooheon was almost preternaturally warm against him and he seemed to sigh quietly when Jackson tightened his arms around him. The material of his hoodie was really soft and he had to fight the urge to fist his fingers in it and keep Jooheon in place. Surreptitiously he brushed his nose against Jooheon's neck to smell him - the spice of his cologne, the hint of sweat. 

Jooheon stepped back quickly, avoiding Jackson's eyes and intensely focused on fixing his clothing. Jackson looked away and caught Wonho twisting his fingers, focused on the motions with a smirk on his face, and Minhyuk watching him with a curious expression. Jackson frowned back at him but Minhyuk just smiled carelessly.

He walked them to his front door even though it wasn’t far. All part of making a good impression.

"Say hi to the rest of the guys for me," he said, "next time, all of you need to come. I'll be upset if you won't."

"Good luck tearing Kihyun hyung from his dusting, or Hyunwoo hyung and Hyungwoon hyung from their sleep," Jooheon said with a snort. "But I'll see you before that, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Jackson said, even though that definitely wasn't in his power to promise. Jooheon looked so hopeful, he couldn't find it in him to deny him. "Just as long as you pick up my calls."

"I always pick up your calls!" Jooheon protested but it was an old argument. He'd been remarkably good at keeping in touch recently, so Jackson let it go.

He watched their backs growing distant, leaning against the doorway. They jostled each other, caught up in conversation he couldn't hear anymore. Jooheon glanced back only once and Jackson offered him a little wave. Jooheon waved back, right before he disappeared around the corner.

Jackson sighed and closed the door behind him with a quiet click, his mood immediately dropping. He’d been too clingy around Jooheon again, too forward. He’d probably embarrassed him in front of his hyungs too. It was like whenever he saw him, Jackson’s good sense just went flying out the window and left behind a nervous wreck without any of his usual game.

His living room had mostly emptied out in the meantime. Bambam was still lying on the couch but Yugyeom must have woken up once because he'd moved to lean up against the couch, head pillowed on Bambam's thigh. The tell-tale redness lingering in his ears let Jackson know that his wake up call went exactly as expected. 

For moment Jackson wanted to be petty. There was a feeling in his chest, dark and cold and _ gnawing _. He was jealous, seeing them be so effortlessly close together, when he couldn’t get it together enough to at least asl Jooheon about his feelings. He thought about going back into the kitchen, filling a cup with water and throwing it on them.

He breathed through it. Instead, he walked casually to the couch, then shoved his hands under Bambam's sides to tickle him awake. Bambam woke with a high pitched yell and managed to knee Yugyeom in the face and Jackson forgot about the heavy feeling in his chest as they ganged up on him until he was begging for mercy.

A few moments later, Mark drifted past them from the direction of Jackson’s closet, stretching luxuriously, his shirt too big for his shoulders. Nearly exactly sixty seconds later, Jinyoung came after him from the same direction and Jackson resisted the urge to roll his eyes. No one was fooled. Mark was wearing Jinyoung’s shirt. Hopefully, the two of them hadn’t made a love nest out of Jackson’s denim collection this time.

Jackson didn’t even bother thinking about going into his bedroom. There was a high chance that Jaebum and Youngjae were conked out on his bed, cuddled up like puppies. Instead of thinking about it, Jackson sat on his probably ruined sofa and sipped his coffee, watching Bambam and Yugyeom poke at each other, listening to Jinyoung’s acerbic commentary on all of the previous night’s gossip. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was alright.

  


*

  


They split up after breakfast. Jackson called in the cleaning crew, which took half an hour as they switched numbers every other week and tended to keep him on hold for long periods of time. He’d have decided it wasn’t worth it a long time ago if they didn’t do such good work. Plus they’d never leaked his address to anyone. That kind of service was hard to come by these days.

So Jackson waited patiently on the phone and after that, he let his manager hustle him into a jacket and into a company car, heading to the JYP building. They got caught up in a traffic jam on one of the main roads and Jackson chattered pleasantly to the driver until the tension in the line of the man’s shoulders eased. He’d have preferred to use the time to stew in silence instead, but needs must. 

At least it kept him from looking at his phone too much, wondering what Jooheon was doing. 

They made it to the meeting with barely a few minutes to spare and that was annoying too, because Jackson wouldn’t have minded some time to prepare, to decide on how to pull and where he’s allowed to push. At least JYP himself wasn’t present - he usually wasn’t, on this level of planning. It was Jackson’s solo they were discussing and he got more creative freedom than he ever could have hoped for but it still felt like walking a tightrope. He had to decide which parts of himself he was allowed to share, to keep the balance between his more exuberant public persona and the consummate professionalism he’d learned to project in front of the upper tiers of his company’s management. 

There’s knowing when he’s allowed to put his foot down and when he has to listen, or only pretend to, and conserving his veto power to shut down anyone that might want to suggest cornrows or something equally horrific. 

“...and that’s why I think that sequins, while very suitable for certain kinds of concepts, might not be a good fit for me,” Jackson said, feeling exhausted, and was gratified to see the CEO nod thoughtfully, shuffling through a file on the colorful monstrosity cooked up by their creative department (and Jackson has long suspected them of getting high before they make any of the really big proposals, since there could be no other way to explain some of the concepts they’d been fitted into over the years). Hopefully this time he’d been convincing enough to send the disco proposal into the depths of hell, or at least to the bottom of some manager’s file drawer.

The meeting was adjourned and Jackson breathed a sigh of relief, resting his head on his hands. He glanced at his phone and hated himself for it, a little. Jaebeom interrupted his thoughts by barging into the conference room with an armful of takeout containers. He’d been in a similar meeting, except it was probably worse because Jaebeom wasn’t just responsible for himself but for all seven of them. 

Jackson let himself chatter all through lunch, about everything and nothing at all, until at least some of the tension bled out of Jaebeom’s shoulders and his smile started looking less painted on. He counted it as a win.

He and Jaebeom got driven to the venue where their concert was being held. Youngjae was already there, a peaceful expression on his face and dog hair lining his expensive turtleneck. There was a ruckus coming from one of the dressing rooms that could only be their youngest off on an adventure. A moment later, Mark breezed in, fresh off a modeling shoot, still in a billowy white shirt and traces of make-up that made him seem more fragile than Jackson knew him to be. And then Jinyoung was slinking in with an apologetic expression, a bruise-like mark on his forearm because he always did his own stunts even if it drove their make-up artists up the wall.

They were complete.

Soundcheck and Jackson found himself staring up at empty seats as their voices echoed in the vast space, imagining them filled with their fans, their lightsticks like stars against the night sky. Jinyoung was in his earpiece, asking for adjustments to his vocal monitor. Yugyeom had just ripped his first pair of pants of the evening, and Bambam still laughed at him like it was the first time. 

There was time for a nap after the radio interview and Jackson found himself somehow lying on the exact same sharp hipbone he’d woken up on that morning like it was somehow magnetized for his face, and the seven of them somehow managed to mostly not mess up their make-up or clothes too much. 

Still bleary-eyed and a little slow, they managed to muddle through a radio interview and Jackson executed the perfect gag to distract the interviewer from her hyper fixation on Youngjae’s hair, only to make a total fool of himself a minute later.

The sting of it carried him almost all the way to the start of the concert, despite Youngjae sneaking him extra jelly and watching Mark teach him terrible puns in English.

Almost in a blink, they were standing in the elevator, loud stomping feet above them and - 

Something in Jackson’s chest, a caged beast pacing the confines of its cell, went still and quiet. Adrenaline sharpened his senses into something brilliant and confidence fell like a gentle coat around his shoulders. A hundred different people were screaming for them - waiting, breathless, excited - and Jackson felt himself settle, as the lights and sound spilled through the cracks on the stage above them as they started to rise.

It was a good show. They played off each other with an ease that came of long familiarity. It didn’t matter that the sound cut out briefly during You Are, they just went on singing regardless, Youngjae nailing his high note in a way that made their fans squeal in admiration. There was a moment where an ahgase slipped when he went by and he reacted quick enough to stop her from hitting the ground, coming away with a sting in his wrist, pain soothed by the soft gratitude in her eyes.

It was a great show and Jackson was still grinning when they split up to take different vans home, splitting up to apartments across the city. After the loudness, the muted sound of the car engine and soft background radio was almost like a sensory overload. Adrenaline kept sparkling through Jackson’s limbs, making it hard to sit still and be quiet. 

Up ahead, Mark was asleep, passed out against Jinyoung’s shoulder and Jackson couldn’t help but be envious of how peaceful he looked. Jinyoung was looking at something on his phone and he’d probably listen to Jackson talk if he asked him to, but he also kept glancing down at Mark with the softest expression on his face and Jackson knew how to be selfless if he wanted to.

The city lights darted past his window and the quiet was getting too loud, so Jackson fished his phone out of his pocket, residual adrenaline and rapidly onsetting exhaustion blunting his sense of self-preservation. Before he thought it through, he was clicking through to his Kakaotalk thread with Jooheon and typing.

_ ‘I’m sad you didn’t stay for breakfast,’ _ he sent and felt absolutely mortified about it right after. He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning his head against the window, cursing himself under his breath. The phone buzzed in his hand and he almost dropped it in shock.

_ ‘I’m sad too. I bet you’re a good cook.’ _ Jooheon had texted back and Jackson made a delighted noise under his breath.

_ ‘I’m the best, _’ Jackson texted, even though he really wasn’t and the only thing he could be counted on to make was baby formula, from all the reality shows he’d done with kids.

Jooheon sent him a laughing emoji, followed by, _ ‘See how quickly I responded?’. _ And Jackson could have taken the opportunity to scold him for not messaging him sooner, but he was pretty sure the expectation was actually totally in his head and he wanted to keep on talking.

_ ‘Good boy,’ _ he texted instead, _ ‘we’re finally teaching you how to treat your hyung properly.’ _

_ ‘You’re only six months older!!!’ _ Jooheon texted back and it had Jackson giggling, apparently loudly enough that it caused Jinyoung to turn around to check on him, raising a quizzical eyebrow. Jackson grinned back, unrepentant. 

“Is it Jooheon?” Jinyoung asked and something must have shown on Jackson’s face because he let out an amused huff and turned his attention back Mark. 

Jackson went back to his phone, where Jooheon was asking him about how his concert went and they texted for the duration of the car ride. Jackson was so distracted by his phone that he almost fell flat on his face while trying to get out of his car. Jinyoung laughed at him, and the sound woke up Mark, who accidentally bumped his head into his chin, causing them both to yell out in pain. By the time the car started rolling away, they were still holding their heads and Jackson waved at them as obnoxiously as he could, grinning, because it served them right.

Jackson went through his evening routine. He washed the sticky stage make-up off his face and the product from his hair, dressing in soft worn-out pajamas. All of the debris from the previous night had already been cleared out and the surfaces were polished till they looked almost new. The cleaning service really did do miracles. They'd even managed to salvage the couch, though the stain on his ceiling remained.

He sent a picture of it to Jooheon, speculating on its origin.

_ 'Shit, it does look like that strawberry vodka Minhyuk hyung was drinking. _ ' Jooheon texted him. _ 'It gave him a hellish hangover this morning.' _

Jackson mentally refitted Minhyuk's shrewd expression with one of pain and suffering and had to conclude it was possible.

He texted Jooheon all through getting ready for bed, dropping everything and diving for his phone as soon as it chimed with an incoming message. It created an awkward moment in the shower where he'd surged out of the bath to grab for his phone, forgot his hands were slippery from the soap and almost dropped the whole thing into the toilet. 

He'd watched with a mixture of endearment and disappointment as the pauses between texts lengthened and the typos grew more frequent. He imagined Jooheon, sleepy-eyed and soft, stretched out in his bed in an apartment across the city, his broad palms cupping his phone and squinting at Jackson's messages. The image filled him with both warmth and disappointment. He caught himself wishing he could see it and promptly squashed the thought. That way lay danger. 

Jackson fell asleep counting sheep, Jooheon's goodnight text lit up on the phone next to his pillow and the cold feeling of longing in his chest.

  


*

  


Jackson opened his eyes and squinted at the red stain on the ceiling. He'd have to call the cleaning service again, since apparently he was bothered enough by it to sleepwalk to his couch.

There was something pointy digging into his cheek uncomfortably and Jackson frowned, overcome by the sudden feeling of deja vu. Bambam's stomach gurgled under his ear and the feeling intensified.

He jumped onto his feet and waited for the headache and nausea to hit him. He'd have to have drunk a lot to forget throwing another party. It didn't come and he looked around, a little helplessly, at the bottles and sleeping bodies littered across his living room. The sight was familiar. He'd seen it before, including the sight of Yugyeom happily snuggling into someone's boobs.

Dazed, he wandered into the kitchen, shooing Youngjae's friend off the counter. His loose shirt snagged on a plastic cup and he caught it instinctively. He spent a few blank minutes staring at it before he poured it into the sink. He was still staring at the coffee machine when Jooheon came in. 

“Will it make itself if you stare at it hard enough?” he asked. Jackson looked up, both startled by his presence and not. He’d been expecting him to walk in, put together and radiant. The repetition had done nothing to dim the force of his smile. If anything it made it worse because Jackson couldn’t remember a party, but he did remember his text, alone in bed and lonely for something he couldn’t possibly have.

“No, I…” Jackson trailed off, watching helplessly as Jooheon’s expression dropped into one of concern. “...I just got distracted.”

“Are you okay?” Jooheon asked, taking a step toward him. “Are you dizzy or nauseous? Headache?”

Jackson shook his head. “I didn’t drink last night,” he said, suddenly realizing that his hands were shaking. “I just woke up feeling wrong.”

The kitchen felt like it was lit up too bright and grossly familiar. He'd cleared away those bottles by the sink once before. The last time he saw the stove it was clean. It felt like waking up after a nap in the middle of the day and not knowing where you were or what time of day it was, except the fog didn't clear.

Jooheon crossed the room to touch his shoulder gently. "It's okay," he said. "You'll be okay."

Jackson nodded, but the motion felt stiff, jerky. Jooheon filled a glass from the tap and the bottles around the sink tinkled ominously. Jackson drank from the glass when Jooheon handed it to him but he ended up drinking too fast and choking.

Jooheon's hand came up to rub at his back, a warm point of contact, grounding in its newness where everything around him was frightfully the same.

This time when Wonho came in to look for him, Jooheon stopped him in his tracks with a glance, a quiet communication that Jackson couldn't follow because he was too busy trying to get some air back into his lungs.

"Can you get Jaebeom hyung, please?" Jooheon said quietly, and Wonho disappeared. Jaebeom was in his bedroom, Jackson tried to say, but couldn't.

Jaebeom appeared in his kitchen doorway, dark eyes concerned and hands warm, Youngjae peeking in behind him, pillow creases on his face. Jackson let himself be handed off as Jooheon walked away with a whispered reassurance.

"What happened?" Jaebeom asked, softly, his hand rubbing Jackson's back in a solid grounding motion. "What's wrong?"

A panic attack. Jackson's seen Jaebeom talk other members through it - Yugyeom, Youngjae, even Mark. But it's never been solid, unflappable Jackson. There was real fear lining the edges of the concern on Jaebeom's face and that, beyond anything, was what brought him back to reality. Or what passed for it anyway.

He felt wrung out afterward. They put him on his living room couch, Mark settled in his lap, solid and real and smelling of Jinyoung's cologne. Bambam took one look at him, exuberance dimming, and squashed himself in on Jackson's other side, touching his sticky palms to his cheeks and his boney elbows poking at his side, whispering silly stories into his ear. It made him feel better.

Around him, people conversed in quiet voices. Jackson let himself drift in the comfort, confusion and fear a dull roar in his head.

Jaebeom stayed after breakfast and dressed in some of Jackson's old clothes. They were too short on him, barely salvaged by some quick styling, but Jackson felt almost pathetically grateful when the two of them settled into the back of the car together. They took another route and avoided the traffic jam that Jackson knew was currently blocking the other expressway.

There was time to spare before his meeting and Jaebeom spent it coaching him through his answers and apologizing that he couldn't get it moved to a later date.

Jackson barely made any contributions in the meeting. He let the discussion go over his head, blankly agreeing to things and hoping he wasn't screwing himself too badly. At least no one brought up the sequins. By the end, everyone was either annoyed or worried about him and he couldn't spare the energy to react to either.

At the concert venue, he was handed off to Yugyeom, his body wrapped up tight in their youngest's long limbs. It made him feel smaller than usual but that felt alright. He barely saw the others but Youngjae drifted by every once in a while, making him drink water and singing to him softly until Jackson cracked a smile.

He stumbled through the concert in a daze. It wasn't their worst performance but it wasn't good either, Jackson always just a beat to slow to respond to the banter. His smile felt like a mask stretched across his face. An ahgase slammed down hard on her hand when he didn't hurry to catch her and her stifled cry cut like guilt through his heart. They wrapped it up quickly.

After, Jackson still got into the car with Mark and Jinyoung. Except this time, Jinyoung quietly instructed the driver to bypass Jackson's apartment entirely. It was probably still messy from last night (from two nights ago?) because Jackson forgot to call the cleaning service.

Instead, he followed Jinyoung and Mark back to Mark's apartment. Jackson changed into a pair of Jinyoung's pajamas (and since when did he have multiple outfits at Mark's place?) and slid under freshly changed sheets on Mark's bed.

Jooheon had sent him a text. 'How are you?' it said. Jackson wrote, _ 'I'm fine' _ and sent it because he couldn't think of a single other thing to say.

He placed the phone on the side table, watching its screen slowly dim. A moment later, Mark laid down next to him, curled up so his knuckles brushed against Jackson's hand. Jinyoung followed him, lying down on Jackson's other side, making a fuss about them taking too much of the blanket. Milo was already deeply asleep at their feet. 

Jinyoung turned off the light and Mark's breathing immediately deepened in sleep. After he'd shifted just a little closer, Jinyoung followed suit.

Surrounded by warm bodies of some of the people closest to him, Jackson couldn't help but feel cold. He closed his eyes and tried counting sheep, but all he could seem to focus on was Jooheon's concerned face.

  


*

  


Jackson woke up staring at the red splotch on his ceiling, something hard and pointy digging into his cheek.

  


*

  


Jackson woke up staring at the red splotch on his ceiling.

  


*

  


Jackson woke up.

  


*

  


He’d looped a few times before Jackson felt anywhere close to being able to deal with the situation. They weren’t his best couple of days, he’d admit, so in a way, he was glad that those days got erased from everyone’s memory. Well, he was glad, but that gladness was the tiniest of silver lining on a cloud of absolute fear, so.

Covert research revealed a movie from the 90s that he illegally watched on youtube, squinting at a tiny screen and struggling to parse through dialogue that was annoyingly too slow. Halfway through, he remembered he was an actual grown-ass adult with a well-paying job that could well afford to rent a Bill Murray movie so he watched it legally instead.

A venture beyond the third page of Google search (a strange and mythical place) found him devouring surprisingly well-written fanfic on the topic that was very helpful until Yugyeom caught him in the act.

“Hyung, why are you reading a fanfic about Jaebeom hyung and Jinyoung hyung?” he asked with a quizzical expression as Jackson tried to hide the screen of his tablet before Jinyoung came looking and skinned him alive.

“They ship you with Jungkook,” Jackson hissed and him and ducked out while Yugyeom turned a frankly alarming shade of red. 

So he went a little bit off-topic, sue him - some of those stories had really good characterization. He ducked into the nearest bathroom to read in privacy. By the end of the day, he was pretty sure he’d given Jaebeom the impression that he was dealing with a terrible bladder infection. He barely noticed when he fell asleep, too caught up in a novel-length story in which Jooheon was a vampire hunter, stuck with the rest of Monsta X, who happened to be vampires. It was really good too, he would have left a comment.

After that intense spot of research he concluded that the only solution to his problem was to have the absolute perfect day.

He came close to it once, when he’d decided to totally forgo his diet and indulge in every food he wasn’t allowed to eat. He went to sleep that night, bloated and satisfied, crumbs all over his bed, only to wake up back on the couch.

  


*

  


Jackson opened his eyes on what was going to be his perfect day and grinned at the red spot on his ceiling. He elbowed Bambam in the stomach while getting up and patted his head gently to calm down his grumbles, then made a beeline to the bathroom. It was blessedly empty.

Showering and brushing teeth at the same time was difficult, but nothing Jackson hadn’t managed before, skills perfected back when they all shared the same bathroom and it felt like they were always rushing somewhere. All that was missing was Youngjae bursting through the door, wild-eyed, looking for his socks that would inevitably turn up in strange places, like the cabinet next to the spare toothbrushes, or among the shampoo bottles, somehow miraculously dry.

He slid on the slick tiles a few times before he finally managed to claw his way to the mirror to shave, hissing as he pressed the aftershave where he’s nicked the skin in his hurry. His hair was a lost cause until he could find some quality time with his hairdryer, but a detour to the entrance to pick up a snapback was doable.

The biggest problem was his shirt, having barely survived the previous night. Jackson wasn’t that keen to put on the sweaty and stained thing again. So he went without. It wasn’t like his apartment was cold and at this point, most of the world had seen him topless. He squinted critically at his reflection in the mirror. His arms looked great, as usual. His six-pack was just barely showing, but there was nothing he could do about that now. His chest looked alright except...why were his nipples so pale? Had they always looked that way? Were pale nipples attractive on a man? Maybe he could put some neutral lipstick on them to enhance the look?

He was out of time. If he didn’t cut off Jooheon in the kitchen, he wouldn’t see him for the rest of the day. Jackson flung himself out the bathroom door, almost trampled a couple of people as he grabbed a hat at the entrance and ran all the way to his kitchen. When he got there, he had to take a moment to catch his breath. Somehow those years as an Olympic level athlete hadn’t prepared him for running the obstacle course that was his apartment after a party.

“Jackson? Are you okay?” 

Jooheon wasn’t wearing any socks with his sneakers and the small strip of skin, covered with sparse hair that was showing from under the hem of his pant legs was somehow very endearing. He had exceptionally well-formed ankles, Jackson noticed.

“Yep,” Jackson said, straightening up and grinning, “just a spot of light exercise in the morning, getting all the juices pumping, you know.”

“Right,” Jooheon said, sounding a little skeptical, though he was smiling back. “Shirtless?”

Jackson shrugged in a subtle way that he knew did wonderful things for his biceps. “How else would you do it?”

“How else,” Jooheon echoed, looking bemused.

Jackson wiggled his eyebrows at him, delighted when it made Jooheon laugh slightly. “Do you maybe want some coffee?” he said, waving with his free arm towards the kitchen. Youngjae’s friend had already vacated his marble-top bed. In fact, Jackson was pretty sure he’d been the one he’d almost trampled earlier.

“Sure thing,” Jooheon said, gamely following him into the kitchen, “but, uh, shouldn’t you put something over top? So you won’t get burned?”

Jackson was warmed by his concern. “Good idea,” he said, bending over to rummage through one of the lower drawers. A moment later he emerged with a triumphant sound, waving around an apron. 

“This should do it,” Jackson told Jooheon, who watched him with a blank expression on his face. He turned around, presenting the back of the apron to Jooheon. “You’ll have to help me tie it, though.”

“Right,” Jooheon said, and he sounded a little faint. “I can do that. Should I just do a bow or what?”

“Like on a present!” Jackson said, feeling a little jittery once Jooheon came up to stand behind him. It made Jooheon huff out a laugh and his warm breath tickled the back of Jackson’s neck. His fingers were light on the strings of the apron, not pulling too hard, and Jackson kept expecting them to brush against the skin of his back, but they didn’t. It made him a little disappointed.

By the time the apron was tied and Jackson turned around, Jooheon’s ears were a deep red and he was avoiding looking at him. Jackson looked down, just in case the apron was stained or something, but it seemed fine. Just a long strip of durable fabric with a cartoon character painted on, pointing to the words ‘Kiss the cook’. Nothing Jooheon or anyone could find particularly offensive. 

“Do you want some coffee?” he said, to cut through the sudden tension. 

“Yes, please,” Jooheon said fervently. He must have really needed the caffeine. 

Searching for topics of conversation, Jackson settled on the most neutral one. “So, how’s your schedule today?”

Jooheon surprised him. “Free for the whole morning,” he said, “and then some recording in the afternoon. It almost feels like a day off.”

“Lucky,” Jackson breathed, thinking of his own packed schedule. “Preparing for the comeback?”

Jooheon grinned. “Are you angling for spoilers?” he asked. “I’m not giving you any. You’ll have to wait patiently like the rest of Monbebe.”

“I’m a Monbebe now?” Jackson asked, raising an eyebrow. He swept some of the bottles off the counter and stacked cups, and Jooheon moved instinctively to help him. “I never said I was your fan. Shouldn’t there be another term for male fans? Mondude? Monboy?”

“Monbebe is Monbebe,” Jooheon said simply. “It doesn’t matter who you are. Besides, you are our fan, you told me so, several times.”

He got him there. “I don’t remember,” Jackson said loftily and Jooheon stomped his feet like a toddler, but he was grinning.

“I’ll record you next time you do. In fact, I think there’s probably something online,” he said, and then he was suddenly leaning across the counter, pining Jackson in place with his eyes. “I’m your bias, right? We’re friends, I have to be.”

Jackson pretended to think. “I dunno,” he said. “I’ve known Wonho hyung for a long time too and he’s got those muscles.”

“Wonho hyung can’t be your bias!” Jooheon said and he looked affonted.

“I can’t be what?” Wonho asked from the kitchen doorway, looking bemused.

“Jackson is trying to convince me you’re his bias,” Jooheon said. He was visibly pouting. Wonho looked over at Jackson, confused, and Jackson had to duck his head behind the mug of coffee to keep from bursting out laughing.

Wonho seemed to understand because his confusion gave way to amusement. “I’m very flattered,” he said, “but you better tell Jooheon that he’s your favorite or he’ll be sulking about it for the rest of the day.”

“I don’t sulk,” Jooheon said, sulkily. 

“You know you’re my favorite,” Jackson said without thinking and immediately felt mortified. Jooheon’s pout melted into a look of surprise and Wonho was looking between them with a raised eyebrow.

“You two are just adorable,” Wonho said, visibly amused. Jackson ducked his head behind his mug of coffee, wishing he could drown in it. He’d come on too strong. He knew Jooheon well enough to realize that things like these seemed to embarrass him when they came from Jackson.

“Who’s adorable?” Minhyuk said, gliding into the room very unlike someone who was allegedly nursing the world’s biggest hangover. “Besides me, of course.”

“We were establishing that Jooheon is Jackson’s favorite,” Wonho told him, grinning, while beside him, Jooheon’s fingers were digging into his bicep hard enough to cut off circulation.

“Shut up,” Jooheon muttered. His ears were a bright flaming red and Jackson allowed himself a measure of satisfaction for causing it.

Minhyuk settled on the other barstool. Seeing him up close revealed the signs of strain. There was tension in the corners of his eyes, probably from a headache, and he swallowed reflexively every few seconds, Adam’s apple bobbing. Jackson poured him a cup of coffee and handed it over. Minhyuk’s smile immediately looked sweeter.

“Thank you,” he said, before turning to Wonho with a conspiratorial smirk. Jackson immediately regretted giving him anything. “That’s really lucky since Jackson is Jooheon’s favorite too.”

“I am?” Jackson blurted out, at the same time as Jooheon yelled, “Shut up,” in complete disregard of Minhyuk’s aching head. Wonho winced too, which meant he wasn’t entirely unacquainted with the bottle the previous evening, though he likely had the foresight to pop a few protein doughnuts and got rid of the worst of the nausea. Protein doughnuts always either caused or cured it, there was no in-between.

“Oh, sure,” Minhyuk said, gleefully, as Jooheon made an attempt to lunge at him over Wonho’s bulk. Wonho put a hand on his head, pinning him in place like an unruly puppy. “He talks about you all the time. It’s always ‘Jackson did this, Jackson did that’. He never shuts up, really.”

Jackson frowned at Jooheon. “Why don’t you ever call me up and talk to me?”

“You want me to call you up just to talk about you?” Jooheon asked, raising an eyebrow. Minhyuk was smirking into his cup of coffee and Wonho was shaking his head.

“Nothing would make me happier,” Jackson told him sincerely. This made everyone laugh, for some strange reason. “I’m serious!” Jackson insisted, which only made them laugh harder. 

In the sudden silence that followed the laughter, Minhyuk suddenly turned serious. “Our Jooheonie is very shy, really,” he said.

“I’m not!” Jooheon interjected.

“He’s very high maintenance,” Wonho said, visibly amused. 

“I’m not!” Jooheon interrupted again. Wonho patted his head, grinning. It looked a little painful.

Jackson looked between them, a little at a loss, but with an inexplicable hopeful feeling growing in his chest. “He’s worth it though,” he said and Jooheon made an inarticulate sound under his breath, face furiously red, before grabbing his hyungs’ hands and making his excuses to leave.

Jackson stared at the doorway after they left for a few moments, before Jaebeom’s head popped in to ask about all the noise. Jackson’s expression must have really been very dopey because Jaebeom started in surprise and then cautiously smiled back.

The morning from then proceeded totally on track. Even struck with the revelation that Jooheon apparently talked about Jackson to his bandmates, he was able to maintain his resolution to make the day go as smoothly as he could. He extracted Yugyeom’s missing shoe from behind the magazine rack with a flourish worthy of a magician. Youngjae was expertly steered away from ordering dairy for breakfast, avoiding future indigestion. Jackson had even managed to get the route to the JYP building changed to avoid the biggest of the traffic and they arrived there early, leaving enough time to comfortably prepare.

Not that Jackson needed any preparation - he walked into the meeting room and had the company representatives wrapped around his little finger. One of them offered him his daughter’s hand in marriage. Another might have offered him his son, Jackson couldn’t quite understand him over the exuberant cheering and clapping. The disco concept photos were only brought up in order to ceremonially burn them in the middle of the conference table. 

Park Jinyoung himself called while Jackson and Jaebeom were having lunch, to congratulate him. He seemed bewildered.

“One of the CEO’s offered to forfeit a year’s worth of bonuses to get you several subway ads,” he said. “The company store sold out of Got7 merch in an hour. What did you do?”

“It’s my natural charm,” Jackson said modestly.

More importantly than JYP being appeased for once, almost every joke that Jackson made during lunch made Jaebeom laugh so hard he could hardly eat. By the end, a portion of his lunch was scattered on the floor and the stress lines around his eyes had disappeared.

Jackson threw himself into the concert, performing with a desperate, feverish intensity. His energy affected the rest of the members, making their lines tighter, their voices clearer, and in turn that energy fed into the crowd, making them louder, more excited. It was one of the best shows of their tour. Maybe the best show Jackson had ever done. The sound was perfect because he’d checked on it beforehand. The ahgase stumbled into his arms and he dipped her for good measure, left her standing with her friends, weak-kneed and with a huge smile on his face. 

He twirled around the stage, a figure of frenzied, hopeful energy, finding his members and holding them tight, pressing kisses to their cheeks before they could remember to pull away, moving on with an echo of joyful giggles that had everyone smiling despite themselves. The shirt was ruined by the end of the night and so Jackson ripped it off, throwing it into the crowd to excited screams. Even the roadies weren’t immune to his energy, and he drew dazzled smiles from them as he walked off stage, grin wide enough that it hurt against his mouth, happiness potent enough that it felt like it could last forever.

The adrenaline started wearing off in the car, fading into a sort of bone-deep satisfaction. Mark kept turning around in his chair to chatter at Jackson about the concert, excited in an almost childlike way he rarely got to show. He was clutching at Jinyoung’s hand and Jinyoung kept sending him soft, overjoyed looks from under his eyelashes, and Jackson’s chest was warmed by how happy they both seemed. They should all always get to be this happy.

The apartment door shut behind him with a click. It was immaculately clean and the exact right temperature and the quiet was the kind that didn’t hurt. Jackson pulled out his phone and thumbed through his phone. There was a message from Jooheon.

_ ‘I heard your show was the bomb tonight!’ _

It made him smile. He hovered over the call button for a little while, but ultimately talked himself out of it, thinking about how embarrassed Jooheon seemed in the morning. Jackson knew he came off as too pushy sometimes. He got invested too quickly, and too much. It tended to scare people away and he desperately did not want to lose Jooheon, so he didn’t push.

He sent a message back instead, puttering around the apartment and making ramyun. He’d need the energy tomorrow, after pushing himself so hard today, but that was okay. As long as there was finally a tomorrow, Jackson could endure. He was confident that he’d done everything right today. 

His phone lit up with another message from Jooheon and Jackson pushed aside his bowl to look at it. Absent-mindedly, he noted the time - late. Late enough that he’d usually be asleep, or trying to. He started to write a reply.

He didn’t finish it.

  


*

  


Jackson woke up, staring at the red stain on the ceiling. Bambam’s hipbone was digging into the soft skin of his cheek. He stared up at the red strain, watching it blur around the edges and felt fury unlike any he’d ever felt before. Jackson threw an elbow into Bambam’s side, completely disregarding his pained groan and made a mad dash into the bathroom, where he dry-heaved the bile gathering in his gut. It didn’t do anything to bank the fury gathering in his gut.

The bathroom door hit the wall with a loud, dull sound. It’d probably leave a mark in the drywall.

“Everyone, get the fuck out of my house!” Jackson yelled, knowing it would carry and feeling no remorse for anyone’s headache. He locked himself in the bathroom, seething at the confused murmur of voices that drifted inside. There wasn’t a single person he wanted to see today. 

He only ventured outside when it was finally quiet, limbs trembling with the effort to hold onto his anger. Jackson wasn’t an angry or vindictive person by nature. Right then, it just seemed better than the abyss that was the alternative.

Yugyeom and Bambam were sitting on the couch, leaning on each other, curled up like puppies. They looked up as he came in, watching him with wide guiltless eyes. He couldn’t stand looking at them. He couldn’t stand them looking at him.

“Didn’t I tell you all to get out?” Jackson said, almost a snarl. Yugyeom froze in his seat, blood draining from his face and hand clutching into Bambam’s jacket. Bambam frowned, drawing himself up, looking not unlike one of his cats when they’d get spooked.

“You’re being a dick,” Bambam told him, steel in his voice. “Stop it.”

There was another vicious retort at the tip of Jackson’s tongue, but it was right then that Mark emerged from Jackson’s closet, stretching idly, and his anger found another target. 

“You aren’t fooling anyone, you know,” Jackson said and both Mark and Jinyoung, appearing in the square of the closet door, froze in their tracks. “If you’re really that happy, why not just show it openly? Instead, you’re sneaking around like cowards.”

Jinyoung’s face was a blank mask and Mark’s sharp canines flashed in a snarl. Jackson hadn’t seen him this furious since their pre-debut, and he still couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was burning from the inside out. He wanted to lash out, to destroy, to burn all of his bridges, because nothing really felt like it mattered anymore. 

Jaebeom walked into the room, probably hearing Jackson’s raised voice. It must have been a sight, Jackson in the middle of his living room, and Jinyoung and Mark across from him, all different faces of anger.

“What the fuck is going on here?” he asked, and Jackson whirled on him, unable to look at the barely concealed pain and betrayal on the faces around him. 

Jackson knew exactly what buttons to push, where to lash out. He had years of small petty grievances stored up in the very darkest part of his soul and he let them pour out into the air between them, knowing they were only going to wound. He expected Jaebeom to get angry, to fight back, to hit him. 

Jaebeom didn’t. He just stayed quiet and unreadable, and the only flash of anger that Jackson could wring from him was when he went after Youngjae, who was fearfully peeking into the room. And when Jackson was done, the bile of all of his words coating the living room floor, voice hoarse from shouting, Jaebeom finally spoke.

“Okay, you’ve said what you wanted,” Jaebeom said. “Now let’s sit down and talk about it, we can still work this out together.”

His voice was calm, even. Anyone else would have thought that he was entirely unaffected by Jackson’s words. But Jackson knew him. Knew him on a level that went beyond flesh and bone, knew him like he knew every single one of them. There was an undercurrent of pure terror in Jaebeom’s voice and Jackson had put it there.

“No,” Jackson said, “we won’t be talking about anything. I’m done.”

And then he turned around and left the apartment, the door shutting behind him with an anticlimactic click. He waited for a moment, not knowing why. Nothing happened. No divine intervention. No solution. So he started walking, and then he started running, tearing down the corridor and down the stairs, two at a time. He missed one and landed on his knees on the floor of the stairway, the blow jarring his knees. He got back on his feet and kept on running until he was out of the building and on the street, and down the sidewalk.

No one tried to stop him and if anyone recognized him, he didn’t register. He ran until he couldn’t recognize his surroundings and his chest burned from the strain, and then he walked some more. His phone kept buzzing with incoming messages, so he threw it in a trash can. He didn’t want to think anymore. His fury had drained after the door shut behind him, replaced with numbness that filled his body, pushing out everything else.

Jackson just walked around all day, in a daze. He walked on until it turned dark, street lights turning on in time with his steps. 

Finally, he collapsed on a bench in a small corner of greenery tucked among the houses. It was so small that it could barely be called a park, more like someone’s backyard that had been turned into a communal space. There were some swings and a sandpit, and someone was very carefully tending to a few vegetable patches and a blooming rose bush. Maybe it was actually someone’s back garden he’d wandered into, but no one appeared to shoo him away, so he stayed there, aware that if he got up his legs would probably give up on him. 

The park stood on a little hill, up high enough that he could see the windows as they lit up in the distance, the apartment complexes rising up almost like stars against the expanse of the night sky. There must have been people out there looking for him. His parents were probably worried. JYP was probably drafting a statement. He’d effectively broken up his group. Or, he’d broken himself from it and stomped on whatever remained. 

The view from here was pretty enough. Jackson wished he still had his phone so he could take a picture. He didn’t know who he’d send it to. Maybe Jooheon. It was probably for the best that he didn’t get to see him in the morning. 

He stayed on that bench, shaking with fatigue and dehydration, the cold slipping through his layers until the darkness came and took away the remnants of his day. 

  


*

  


Jackson spent the next couple of days making it up to his members, even though he knew none of them remembered him doing anything wrong. He still felt guilty though, even if the reset had wiped away all traces of his bad temper. 

So he allowed Youngjae to give him vocal lessons, which inevitably ended up with them loudly singing along to their favorite songs and Jackson rapping through a throat more gravelly than usual.

("I've got to keep my voice sharp, since it's the only thing I've got," Youngjae said, self-deprecation in his voice.

"You know that's not true, right?" Jackson said, and at Youngjae's shrug proceeded to tell him all the ways he was wonderful until Youngjae was sniffling loudly and Jaebeom almost broke down the door, thinking that Jackson was bullying him in some way.)

*

Bambam took him shopping and Jackson refrained from asking for discounts even if the end total made his head spin. At least his bank account thanked him for another reset.

("It gets a little lonely around here," Bambam said, hairline fractures in his voice. The cats were playing in figure eights around his feet. With a sigh, Jackson wrapped him in his arms, tipped them into the mess of shopping bags on the couch and hugged him until he started sounding more like his usual self.)

*

He ached in places he didn't know could ache after dance practice with Yugyeom, but at least Yugyeom seemed happy after thoroughly proving his dancing superiority. 

("I still don't know who I am outside of here," Yugyeom said suddenly, staring fixedly at their reflections in the mirror. The music was a loud driving beat underneath their conversation.

"I don't know who I am anywhere," Jackson told him, shrugging. "I think you're fine just being Yugyeom.")

*

Spending time with Mark was a throwback to their trainee days, tucked in a corner, away from the bustle, listening to music on shared headphones and talking quietly. It was calm and relaxing, and everything that their lives usually weren't. Jackson was surprised to realize he'd missed it, and he resolved to do it more often.

("I love him," Mark told him, barely a whisper, tracking Jinyoung's progress across the room.

"I know," Jackson said, because he did.

"I haven't told him yet."

"He probably knows too."

"Yeah."

"Tell him anyway."

"Okay.")

*

For Jinyoung, Jackson braved watching a drama that Jinyoung claimed he was watching for research. It may have started off that way, but now Jinyoung was obsessed with it, completely and fanatically. He seemed positively overjoyed to explain all of the convoluted twists and turns of the trashy characters. He ended up driving to Jinyoung's place to binge watch it and found himself surprisingly invested.

(lit up only by flickers of light from the television screen, Jinyoung turned to Jackson. "Do you think I'm a coward?" he asked, looking beyond Jackson, at the door to his bedroom where Mark had gone to sleep as soon as they'd arrived, and Jackson felt a sharp stab of pain at the familiar words.

"I think you're doing the best you can with the hand you've been given," Jackson told him, because he couldn't think of anything more true.

Jinyoung shrugged, something pinched and sad in the curve of his mouth. “Doesn’t feel like it,” he said, and Jackson reached out to squeeze his hand, causing the expression to ease.

“You should talk to Jooheon, you know,” Jinyoung told him. 

Jackson dropped his hand in a sudden blind panic and pointed at the screen. “Look!” he said. “This is my favorite scene.”

“This is the first time you’ve watched this drama,” Jinyoung said, amused.)

*

As for Jaebeom - Jackson followed him around for a whole day, doing anything he could think of to make him laugh. By the end, the stressed lines around Jaebeom's eyes had disappeared while he was begging Jackson to stop it with the terrible puns that barely made any sense in Korean.

("Thank you for your hard work, Leader hyung," Jackson said quietly, with a quick squeeze to Jaebeom's hand, before joining Jinyoung and Mark in their van. He watched through the window as Jaebeom's shocked expression melted into something softer, and felt peaceful.)

  


*

Jackson tried for another perfect day. Except for how this time, things seemed to refuse to conform to his carefully detailed plans. Jooheon left even quicker than he usually did, sending him concerned glances over his shoulder. The meeting ended up with several managers inexplicably discontent and the disco concept just barely avoided. His members asked him several times if he was feeling alright and looked even more worried when he told them he was.

The worst was the concert. No matter how hard Jackson tried, nothing seemed to click. The crowd seemed lethargic, almost unresponsive and the sound didn't cut out, but it left Jackson almost wishing it had, so it could be over soon.

Nothing felt right and it wasn't until he was staring at his phone, trying to figure out what to write to Jooheon, that he figured out what the problem was.

  


*

  


Jackson was just going through the motions, without any care or excitement, and the people around him could see it. Living and participating in the world was starting to lose its shine, becoming monotone. It felt like the more he lost his will and personality, the harder it was to figure out or even care about finding a way out of his predicament.

  


*

Early in the morning, hidden in his bathroom, fingers trembling hard enough that Jackson had to type in his passcode three times to unlock his phone, he booked himself a flight to Hong Kong. From there, it was simple enough to give his manager the slip, his clothes nondescript enough to fit into the crowd that had no idea that Jackson was missing. 

Fear was a cold solid mass in his chest and it made him feel like he was drowning in it, scared of the consequences of being caught, scared of the consequences if he wasn't.

Close to three hours later he was at his front door, ringing the doorbell because he had no idea where his keys were any more, and his father opened the door in his housecoat and fear in his expression.

The door clicked shut behind him and Jackson let himself be caught by his father's hands, the same hands that held him after nightmares, the same that tended to him when he'd scraped his skin on the playground. A moment later, his mother's gentle fingers smoothed through his hair, her voice a low soothing murmur. 

Jackson felt himself shake, cold through his own body, muted like that time in kindergarten when an older kid threw him into the pool and the water had rushed in over his head, feeling like a trap.

Jackson let himself shake apart in the only place that had ever been truly safe. He knew he was crying, great big heaving sobs, and he couldn't bring himself to care because he was tired.

He was so tired.

*

It took a couple of loops for Jackson to figure out how to get out of attending a meeting while still being allowed to participate in the concert. He had to fake sneeze and cough just enough that Jaebeom and their manager felt that he was able to recover in his own apartment, which left Jackson free time up until the concert itself, at which point he miraculously got better.

Being free for most of the morning and afternoon also happened to leave Jackson at the apartment at the same time that the cleaning crew arrived to fix up his apartment.

His front door banged open and Jackson turned around, watching wide-eyed as several sharp-eyed men and women marched into the room with military-style precision. Their uniforms were pristine white and they were carrying what were probably mops and dusters that were so futuristic looking that he could barely recognize them. None of them paid him the slightest bit of attention.

Leading them was a short, stout man that delivered several sharp commands and the cleaning crew scattered around Jackson's apartment. He then turned and approached the dirty couch that Jackson was sitting on.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to vacate the premises of the sofa," the man said, opening up the huge suitcase he'd been carrying. "Persons aren't allowed within two meters of the Dirt Particle Manipulator while it's turned on."

He started pulling out machine parts from the suitcase and attaching them together. Jackson had had to assemble a gun when he was filming Real Men. Something in the man's precise and practiced movements reminded him of that.

"Oh, that's cool," Jackson said and didn't move. "I'm Jackson by the way. Did I talk to you on the phone?"

The man's no-nonsense tone was familiar. Jackson watched as he pulled out a piece of crystal that wouldn't look out of place in Bambam's closet out of the suitcase and attached it somewhere inside it.

"Yes," the man said flatly. "Your description of the extent of the damage was adequate."

That was almost a compliment. "Barely," the man muttered under his breath. Jackson was distracted from replying by the sight of someone carrying his refrigerator into the living room. It didn't look damaged so he turned his attention back to the man who was pulling out a long tube that seemed much too long to have been stored in the suitcase.

It was obvious the man didn’t really want to talk but Jackson hadn’t yet met a person who could resist his social skills for long. He tried again.

“Do you like your job, sir?” he asked. The man’s eyes didn’t even flick away from his task. Jackson seethed quietly.

“Yes,” the man said.

“Have you been doing it for a long time?”

“Yes,” the man repeated.

“I like my job too,” Jackson told him, deciding to switch tactics. “I used to think I’d never get bored of it.”

But he was. Going through the same motions every day, meeting the same people and repeating the same phrases went against his innate desire for new experiences, his hunger to grow. It’d been why he’d taken the idol path in the first place - he wanted to be better, to grow, to figure out where his limits were and go beyond them. Being stuck in this strange timeline felt like it was robbing him of that dream.

The man didn’t as much as twitch at his words. It gave Jackson an idea. “Actually, I find myself in need of some advice. I think you’d be the perfect person to ask.”

Finally, that seemed to give the man pause. He looked up from his machine with a raised eyebrow. “I’m here to clean your sofa, sir,” he said. 

“You can give me advice while you’re doing that, can’t you?” Jackson wiggled in his blanket cocoon and made his best pleading face. It always worked on his ahgase, but the man seemed immune.

“That’s not in my contract, sir,” the man said. “Could you please move off the sofa?”

Obediently, Jackson rose to his feet and went to stand in the corner indicated by the man.

“Okay, so,” Jackson started, and the man turned on the assembled machine, making him shout over the sudden din, “if you were stuck in a time loop and you didn’t know how to get out of it, which consequently had you doing the same thing over and over again, till all your life got unspeakably boring, what would you do?”

Before his eyes, the machine seemed to drain all of the dirt from the couch, making it hover strangely suspended in mid-air for a moment before sucking it into its depths. The man carefully manipulated it so it reached every corner of the furniture, leaving behind only perfectly pristine surfaces. Jackson didn’t think the couch was ever that clean, not even when he bought it. The dirt slowly disappeared and the machine was turned off, causing the noise to stop and Jackson blinked at thin air for a moment, disoriented by the silence.

“If it were me,” the man said suddenly, keeping his gaze on the handle of the machine in his hands, “I’d find the one thing that I could never get bored of and hold onto it.”

“Oh,” Jackson said, blinking rapidly, “that’s...actually really good advice.”

He wandered off, a bit dazed, leaving the man behind. There was another member of the cleaning crew that was currently climbing the wall of Jackson’s living room, attached with a harness to the ceiling and spraying the walls down with some sort of high-pressure washer. Jackson reminded him to pay special attention to the red stain on the ceiling. The man only stared at him until Jackson slowly backed away into the kitchen to check on the state of his fridge.

  


*

  


Finding the one thing that wouldn’t get boring was easier said than done, though. Jackson used to think he’d never get bored of performing up on stage but it turned out that with enough repetition, even that could become a routine. Writing and producing were interesting, but at some point, after he’d created enough songs to fill two whole albums and promptly forgot them all by the next reset, that became boring too. And he loved his members, but they’d been a little predictable even before all of this happened, and now they were starting to get downright dull. There was nothing that really stood out and he’d been unable to replicate the circumstances of the cleaning crew’s visit so that he could see the man again and quiz him some more.

  


*

  


It didn’t click until one familiar morning when Jackson was standing in his kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee and frowning at the state of his five o’clock shadow in the reflection if the coffee maker. Jooheon’s head popped into the room and he smiled when he saw Jackson was there, a sweet, full-dimpled smile that crinkled in the corners of his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, nodding at the cup of coffee, “can I get in on that?”

So Jackson made him a cup of coffee. At this point, he’d made it often enough that he did it automatically, adding the splash of milk and some sugar, stirring it exactly three times clockwise, like he’d seen Jooheon do it. By the time he was sliding the cup over, Jooheon was squinting at him suspiciously. He took a sip and his frown deepened. Jackson suddenly felt inexplicably nervous.

“How do you know exactly how I like my coffee?” Jooheon asked, taking another sip immediately. “Even I don’t know how much sugar I want sometimes. But you just got it perfectly correct the first time.”

“I guess I’m magic,” Jackson said, feeling a small amount of guilt at the excitement that sparkled on Jooheon’s face. The morning sunlight was shading Jooheon’s jawline so perfectly, and he was having a hard time not staring.

“Maybe it’s your superpower!” Jooheon said. “Minhyuk hyung sent me this blog post the other day - what if instead of just some of us having really visible superpowers, we all actually have small ones, ones are so mundane that they get lost in everyday life.”

He was bouncing endearingly on the barstool, which creaked under his weight. It was probably made to hold the weight of one of Bambam’s cats (not even Jaebeom’s cats - those were all extremely spoiled and the size of small houses). It made something in Jackson’s chest feel warm, and he had to brace himself on the counter, so he wouldn’t try to jump it and pull Jooheon in a probably unwelcome hug.

“So, someone would always have enough change in their wallet to pay for parking,” Jooheon continued, “and someone else would always pour in the right amount of water for dumpling dough, without having to measure it. Maybe your superpower is that you always get my coffee right!”

“Maybe,” Jackson said, and didn’t think it through, “or maybe I’m stuck in a time loop where I watch you make coffee every day and I just remember it well.”

Jooheon stared at him, wide-eyed and Jackson bit his tongue, cursing himself silently. He hit a bottle with his elbow and it went hurling off the counter. He barely stopped it from hitting the floor with his foot and it rolled away harmlessly, the sound of glass scratching on tile echoing loudly in the room.

“That sounds,” Jooheon started, “really lonely for you.”

Jackson blinked at him, bewildered. It hadn’t been what he’d expected Jooheon to say. He thought that he’d start extrapolating about the possibilities of having so much time at his fingertips, but Jooheon cut right down to the heart of the matter without even having to think about it.

“What do you mean?” Jackson croaked out.

“Well,” Jooheon said, and suddenly flushed red up to the tip of his ears, “it’s just that you like new experiences and meeting new people. Being stuck doing the same things would be like a nightmare for you, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jackson said, “it is.”

He expected Jooheon to call him out on his slip-up, but he didn’t. He just smiled slightly, softly, from the corners of his mouth to the crinkled corners of his eyes and the knot in Jackson’s chest tightened, before releasing, just slightly. There was realization coming together just on the edge of his awareness, like words sitting on the tip of his tongue, but not ready to come out.

After a moment of quiet, Jooheon spoke again. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you at the party last night,” he said and he sounded sad.

“Stay for breakfast,” Jackson offered on impulse. It was probably moot because he’d been trying to get Jooheon to stay for breakfast for what was probably weeks now. But Jooheon surprised him.

“Yeah,” he said, “okay.”

Jackson stared at him for long enough that Jooheon started looking visibly uncomfortable. “Wait, really?” Jackson asked, just to make sure.

“I mean, unless you were just offering to be polite-” Jooheon started, but Jackson was already springing into motion, rushing around the kitchen island to grab both of Jooheon’s hands.

“This is the best thing ever,” he told Jooheon, fervently, then abruptly became aware of the warmth of his palms and their fingers entwined, and went about extracting himself, practically running towards the fridge so he could stick his flushed face inside it. 

There was indeed seaweed soup in the freezer and the fridge revealed some store-bought kimchi and mostly fresh green onions, and if Jackson had known he was going to have Jooheon's company he would have had more than just that and instant rice to offer him.

As it were, he kept his gaze trained on him when he could, half-afraid that Jooheon was going to change his mind. Jooheon, who had taken over cleaning the bottles away from the counters and the breakfast nook, kept meeting his eyes and smiling.

Wonho poked his head in just as Jackson was starting to saute the green onions. 

"Something smells good in here," he commented, nostrils flaring. From the corner of his eye, Jackson saw Jooheon grimace.

"Ah, hyung, do you want some?" Jackson asked hastily. He liked Wonho, but he didn't particularly want him at breakfast. Still, it was a better alternative than him trying to take Jooheon away.

Wonho's gaze traveled from Jackson to his groupmate and, even though Jooheon's expression had smoothed into something neutral, he seemed to read something in it that made him smirk.

"Nah, I'm good," Wonho said, not looking away from Jooheon, "I'll take Minhyuk home, you just call a company car when you're ready to leave."

He winked at them and left without a backward glance. Jackson looked at Jooheon, confused by the exchange but Jooheon's ears were red and he was back to collecting the bottles with renewed vigor, so Jackson decided not to ask. After a moment, the tension in Jooheon's shoulders unwound and he started telling Jackson all about the time they'd almost set the kitchen on fire in the middle of a Vlive.

Jackson was in the middle of reciprocating, telling him about Bambam and Yugyeom making stew and pouring in half the spice rack, when the devils themselves appeared in the doorway, matching evil grins on their faces.

"Well, hello there, hyungs," Bambam said jovially. "So this is where you've been hiding."

Jackson, who was still a little shaken by the sight of Jooheon rolling up his sleeves and attacking his surfaces with a wet rag, was too slow to intervene.

"Is Jackson hyung cooking you breakfast?" Yugyeom leered at them. "How wonderfully domestic."

Jackson was going to kill whoever taught Yugyeom to pack so much innuendo into a few innocent words. Scratch that - he'd probably learned it from Jackson.

"Nice pillow you woke up with this morning," Jackson snapped at him. "You looked very comfortable."

Yugyeom went white, and then furiously red. Sadly, Bambam was still undeterred.

"Did you know, Jooheon hyung?" Bambam said, casually. "Jackson hyung once gave us food poisoning when we were trainees."

"It was on purpose," Jackson snapped, even though it wasn't. He just hadn't realized what he was using wasn't blue cheese and therefore shouldn't have had mold growing on it. "Because you were annoying."

Bambam was gearing up for another round, when Jinyoung suddenly appeared behind them, looking like a vengeful god. He clamped his hands around their necks, ignoring Yugyeom's screech and started dragging them out the door.

"Sorry about them," he said, switching his grip to Bambam's ear when he wouldn't stop squirming, "you two have fun, I'll make sure no one else interrupts."

Jackson was going to owe him so much after this.

"I'm so sorry," Jackson said, turning to Jooheon, who looked somewhat flustered still.

"It's okay," Jooheon said, smiling slightly. "Jinyoung hyung is kind of scary, isn't he?"

"He can be," Jackson said, shrugging slightly. "But he's a good friend. He knew I'd been looking forward to seeing you, so…"

He trailed off and looked away from Jooheon's smiling face. The rice cooker turned off with a snap, thankfully giving him an out.

"You don't find me annoying, do you?" Jooheon asked when Jackson put a bowl of rice in front of him.

"What? No, of course not," Jackson said before his brain caught up. "Oh, no, I've gotten so much better at cooking since then, I promise!"

Jooheon laughed and put a mouthful of rice in his mouth. It was too big and probably a little bit too hot and Jackson was in stitches watching him make faces around it.

Jooheon was just so much fun to be around. He was funny and full of stories, but he also knew how to listen and he laughed at all of Jackson's jokes, even the dumb ones. Time seemed to go by faster when they were together, and for the first time, Jackson was grateful that he had a seemingly infinite supply.

It didn't feel nearly long enough till Jackson's phone went off to the tune of 'Bounce'. It was Jaebeom, reminding him that they had a meeting (he got the JJProject single, Jinyoung got the Darth Vader theme).

"I guess that's my cue," Jooheon said, straightening up from the counter he'd been leaning on after helping Jackson load the dishwasher.

"You don't have to," Jackson said and he sounded desperate even to himself. "My manager will be picking me up, we can drop you off wherever you want."

Jooheon was already waving him off. "Don't worry about it," he said, "I've texted mine and there's a car already on the way. I don't want to inconvenience you."

"You aren't," Jackson said, then, quieter, "you could never."

Jooheon smiled at him, full-dimpled and sweet. "Thank you, for making me breakfast," he said. 

"Thank you for staying," Jackson told him. A tense sort of silence descended between them. Jooheon was still smiling slightly. Jackson's eyes kept getting drawn to his mouth.

It felt like a moment. Jackson struggled with the words on the tip of his tongue.

Jooheon's phone chimed and he looked down to check the message. "Five minutes," he said regretfully.

"Oh," Jackson said and did the only thing he could think of doing. He opened his arms.

A moment later, he was holding an armful of Jooheon. He was warm and solid, and Jackson buried his head into the material of his hoodie, closing his eyes. Jooheon’s arms were just on the edge of too tight around him, but it felt alright. It felt like, just for a moment, he wasn’t the only thing holding himself together.

Jooheon’s phone buzzed in his pocket and they separated. Jackson took a deep breath, feeling defeated when all he could still smell was Jooheon.

“I have to go,” Jooheon said but stood rooted to the spot. Jackson wondered what he’d do if he asked him to stay. 

“Yeah,” Jackson said because he was many things, but he tried not to be selfish. “Let me know you got to your schedule safely?”

“Sure,” Jooheon said with a small smile. “I’ll take some of the trash out on my way down, okay?”

In the end, Jackson had to practically wrestle the garbage bag out of his arms and push him out the door. He leaned against the wood after for a moment, just catching his breath, the first vestiges of loneliness stirring in his chest when his phone buzzed with his own five-minute notice. 

He didn’t bother steering the driver away from the traffic jam because the route was more scenic and it wasn’t like he had to prepare for the meeting at this point. He settled in his seat and watched the scenery. His phone buzzed again. Jooheon, letting him know he’d arrived at his dorm safely, and the message was short but weirdly reassuring for its simplicity.

‘Find the one thing that isn’t boring,’ the man had said and before Jackson was allowed to dwell on it, they were arriving at the JYP building and he was being hustled out of the car and into a meeting room.

Jackson didn’t deliver any miracles during the meeting. The disco concept was brought up again, as were several others, but he stood firm. It helped that he had most of the songs for the album already written and a solid concept put together. By the end, the board members were agitated but reluctantly impressed.

Over lunch, Jaebeom leveled him with a meaningful look. Jackson paused, halfway through another bite of his kimbap.

“So, Jooheon,” Jaebeom said, faux-casually and it was a good thing Jackson had paused eating because he would have choked. “That’s new.”

“It isn’t anything,” Jackson denied. Jaebeom leveled him with a look and Jackson stared stubbornly back.

“Sure,” Jaebeom said and he sounded highly skeptical. “Well, whatever it is, you know I’ve got your back, right? All of the guys do.”

“Thank you,” Jackson was touched despite himself. And suddenly burningly curious. “Did you have this conversation with Jinyoung and Mark too?”

Jaebeom grimaced. “Yeah,” he said, “Mark just stared at me and I’m pretty sure Jinyoung was planning my murder.”

“I’m sure they appreciated it regardless,” Jackson said. “And Jinyoung’s had your murder planned out since you were sixteen, should you still really be surprised?”

“That’s true,” Jaebeom sighed. They descended into a comfortable silence, munching on their lunch.

“Hey, JB?”

“Hm?”

“Who’s going to talk to Bambam and Yugyeom about this when the time comes?”

“...we’ll draw straws. I’m not facing that hell alone.”

  
  


*

  
  


At this point, Jackson could do most of the day pretty much on auto-pilot. He cruised through the pre-show radio interview and managed not to say anything too incriminating. He ended up gushing about Monsta X’s future comeback, gaining knowing looks from his members. It’d probably find its way back to Jooheon eventually, but he honestly didn’t really care..

An offhand remark to a sound tech about checking on the song sequence before You Are got him a weird look, but usually eliminated any sound issues. He ended up with his face mashed into Bambam’s pointy hip during naptime again. At this point, he was growing almost fond of it.

His on-stage persona slipped around him like a well-worn coat. He knew the layout of this stage better than he’d known his childhood home. He prowled across its confines, letting the familiar words fill his mouth and turning his limbs over to the beat. An ahgase in the front row stumbled and would have fallen if he weren’t there to steady her. She tried to apologize and he squeezed her hands comfortingly, watching the smile steal across her face. Through all the endless repeats, their ahgases’ smiles and their lightsticks hadn’t dimmed, not even for a second. 

After the concert, he got stuck in a car with Jinyoung and Mark again, watching them with a hard knot of longing in his chest. He was well aware of how pathetic he was being. He’d known all along.

Jackson’s phone chimed in his pocket and he pulled it out, smiling automatically at the message from Jooheon.

_ ‘I heard you talked about me on the radio,’ _ Jooheon had written.

_ ‘What can I say? I missed you,’ _ Jackson texted back.

_ ‘You just saw me this morning.’ _

_ ‘So?’ _

Jooheon’s icon had flashing blue dots under it, indicating that he was typing, and Jackson looked out the window, distracted by the passing streetlights. It was a cool night, but the sky was clear and it was a couple of hours until he was due for a reset. He cut off Jooheon before he was finished typing.

_ ‘Are you busy tonight?’ _ he texted. Jooheon’s typing icon disappeared briefly, before reappearing,

_ ‘Not really, I guess. Why?’ _

_ ‘I want to show you something. Can I pick you up at the dorm?’ _

It took a couple of minutes, at which point, Jackson’s heart was stuck in his throat and he was desperately convincing himself that leaping out of the window of a moving car was a terrible idea.

_ ‘Sorry, I had to check with Hyungwoo hyung about the schedule. I can go.’ _

Buoyed by a sense of relief, Jackson leaned forward to catch the driver’s attention.

“Could you stop at Mark hyung’s place first and then drop me off somewhere else?” he asked. The driver meet his eyes in the rearview mirror and shrugged. He was a pretty easy-going guy and he didn’t mind driving around at night if Jackson asked him to and then slipped him a box of expensive chocolates the next day.

Jackson told him the address and he nodded, turning his attention back to the road. Jackson sat back into his seat, abruptly aware that he’d effectively captured both Mark and Jinyoung’s full attention. 

“Jooheon?” Jinyoung asked knowingly. Mark was hiding his grin behind his hand, but Jinyoung didn’t even bother. 

“None of your business,” Jackson muttered, a little sullenly, setting them off. They were still laughing at him when the van stopped in front of Mark’s apartment building, thankfully sparing him from any further interrogation. Jinyoung got out of the car first, and Mark turned to Jackson, still grinning wide enough to show off his too sharp canines. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said, before bolting out the door. Jackson watched through the window as he caught up with Jinyoung and reached out to grab his hand where anyone could see. They disappeared up the stairs and out of sight, the van merging smoothly back into traffic. 

Soon enough, he could see Jooheon’s building and he texted him to come down. They only had to wait a few minutes until Jooheon appeared, backlit by the light from his front door. 

A moment later, and he was sliding in next to Jackson, smelling of the crisp autumn air, his leather jacket noisily crinkling against the car seat.

“Hey,” he said breathlessly, squeezing Jackson’s hand once, before buckling his seat belt and greeting the driver politely.

“So,” Jooheon started once they were moving, “where are we going?”

“It’s a secret,” Jackson told him, before leaning forward to give the driver directions on which turn to take. The next few minutes were filled with Jooheon mercilessly teasing him about the radio interview and Jackson was almost glad when they emerged into the night, the colder air stealing the words from Jooheon’s mouth. The driver parked in a quiet parking lot, waving them off as he settled in to wait.

“Where are we going, hyung?” Jooheon asked again, slowing his pace down to match Jackson’s shorter legs. 

“I told you, it’s a secret,” Jackson told him, squinting around, trying to find familiar landmarks in their sepia-toned surroundings.

“You aren’t going to make me walk up any stairs, are you?” Jooheon squinted at him suspiciously. “If you do, I’ll leave, I swear.”

“No stairs,” Jackson soothed, “come on, I think it isn’t far.”

They walked quietly up the narrow road. The lights in the windows of the houses they passed were winking out as the families in them turned in for the night. The street lights cast their silhouettes in weird elongated shadows on the pavement, merging with each other and other passing shadows. Their hands brushed between them occasionally.

Jackson had been worried he’d forget the way, but his feet led him unerringly to the little park on top of the small hill. The single street light next to it cast it in strange contrasts, and Jackson wondered about the color of the roses blooming on top of scraggly branches. 

“Wow,” Jooheon breathed out as Jackson gestured him toward the bench and the full extent of the view opened up for them, the multitude of lives like a carpet of light against the night sky. “How did you find this place?”

“Oh, you know,” Jackson shrugged, as they both sat down, “I was just wandering around.”

“During all of the free time you get?” Jooheon asked incredulously and Jackson avoided his gaze, looking out at the lights instead. They fell into a weird, charged sort of silence.

“How many people have you brought up here?” Jooheon asked abruptly. There was a strange note in his voice that drew Jackson’s attention back immediately. 

“No one,” Jackson told him, startled into honesty. “You’re the only one.”

“Why?” Jooheon asked, and his voice sounded calm, but his hands were twisted into fists on his knees, hard enough that it looked painful. Jackson wanted to cover them with his, make him let go before he hurt himself, but he didn’t think it’d be welcome.

“I wanted you to see it,” Jackson told him, confused as Jooheon shook his head, visibly agitated.

“Why?” he repeated, and then went on talking before Jackson could reply, not that he could think of anything to say. “Because, hyung, you keep saying these things that sound sweet and flirty, and embarrass the hell out of me. You do it so easily and I always end up back here, wondering if you mean any of it, or if it’s just part of your charm.”

“Jooheon-” Jackson started, only to be cut off again.

“I really need you to tell me which one it is, hyung,” Jooheon told him, almost desperate, composure well and truly gone. “Please.”

And after weeks of nearly identical days, the words he’d been searching for finally found its way out of Jackson’s month. “Jooheon,” he said, “I like you. So much.”

The smile that stole its way across Jooheon’s face was like the first light of dawn after a long night. “Really?” he asked, a note of disbelief in his voice.

“So much,” Jackson repeated. “It’s been driving me crazy. I kept thinking I was coming on too strong.”

“You weren’t,” Jooheon said, and it was impossible to look away from his face, from his sweet full-dimpled smile. “I like you too. I thought I was being obvious.”

“You weren’t,” Jackson told him. Jooheon moved his arm so it was resting on the back of the bench, which made space for Jackson to slide closer.

“Are you sure?” Jooheon made a face. “Hoseok hyung told me I was really obvious and he’s the most obtuse person I know.”

“I’m not anything like Wonho hyung,” Jackson said, but it was mostly on autopilot since he was much too busy staring at Jooheon’s mouth.

“Thank fuck for that,” Jooheon declared and closed the distance between them.

His mouth was as soft as Jackson had imagined. 

What he couldn’t have predicted was the soft sigh that Jooheon made as his lips parted, or the way his hands came to rest, steady and possessive, along Jackson’s waist, or the heat he gave off like a furnace. 

They kissed until Jackson’s mouth felt tender and a third of the sea of lights had winked out of existence for the night. It wasn’t until Jooheon pulled back to reply to the insistent buzzing of his phone that Jackson realized the situation.

“Fuck,” he said, “what time is it?”

How long did he have until-

  
  


*

  
  


Jackson woke up, instinctively searching for the red spot on the ceiling. 

It wasn’t there. The almost painful pressure against his cheek was from Jooheon’s arm on which Jackson had been sleeping. Jackson turned to his side, staring at Jooheon sleeping by his side. His hair was a splash of color against the pillow and his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as he dreamt. He was radiant in the light of the early morning.

In the light of the morning  _ after. _

The expression on Jooheon’s face as he slept peacefully, the gentleness of morning light shading in the shape of his jawline and the bags under his eyes from where Jackson had kept him up late, all of that was new and unexplored. The moment Jackson would step out of this bedroom, out of the circle of Jooheon’s arms, his every decision was going to actually mean something again and consequences would be unpredictable. It was both a relief and absolutely terrifying. 

“What’s wrong?” Jooheon muttered, voice heavy with sleep. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m just happy,” Jackson told him, and let himself be drawn closer. Jooheon pressed a sleepy kiss against his hair and Jackson let his eyes fall closed. It was early still. If he had to relive one single moment for the rest of his life, he could live with it being this one. A moment later, the irony of that hit him and he laughed quietly, burying his face into Jooheon’s chest.

Lying in Jooheon’s arms, in the soft light of the morning that came after, the sudden uncertainty of his future didn’t seem so scary at all.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/leewoong) and [CC](https://curiouscat.me/hwansloth). 
> 
> Comment if you want Jackson to do a disco concept. Leave another one if you want cleaning man to come clean your sofa with his futuristic gadgets. Also, stream Bullet to the heart.


End file.
